 |
 |
 |
« July 2008 | Main | September 2008 »
Thursday, August 21, 2008 - 20:49:11
Sometimes Six Minutes is All You Need
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I met my friends. My best friend will tell you that I stopped by her dorm room looking for her roommate, whom I sort of knew and was hoping to befriend. But Anna wasn’t there, so I introduced myself to Christi. Only, it turns out, we’d met before. Oops! When I was working a summer camp, a guy introduced himself to the group with this ice breaker: “My name is Christopher, and I had my first taste of synthetic maple syrup last night.” I immediately thought: “I want to meet that guy.” He turned out to be totally awesome. Autumn used to be my boss. When I first met her, she was wearing some wild blue eye shadow, and I thought, “I don’t know about this chick.” But now, I adore her and her dramatic eye makeup.
I’m new-ish to the central
I’ve been trying to be more social in the last few weeks. For reasons that escape me now, I tried speed dating. To be perfectly fair, most of the guys were really nice but not my type. I was relieved to get to my last six-minute “date.” I introduced myself and gave some of the patter I’d worked out over the evening. I mentioned that I used to teach English but decided to take a break from the classroom. When I finished, the guy started off by saying, “Now, don’t get me wrong, but…” I smirked a little as he pointed out that teachers get summers off, and even when you taught, you still got days off during the school year. I opened my mouth to speak, but he barreled on. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for teachers. I think they don’t get paid enough, BUT…” He probably could have saved his disclaimers. I’m pretty sure I got him just right.
One of the odd things about teaching is that when I told people that was how I made a living, they took it as an invitation to tell me how much they hated school or about some terrible teacher that they once had who crushed their dreams or ruined their GPA. Once, as I was writing a fairly large check for a gym membership, the salesman asked what I did for a living and then proceeded to tell me how much he hated English in school. My pen froze in the middle of a zero, and I gave him a dirty look. Like, I’m cutting a check here, dude. Can we save the part where you talk about how you hate my profession? I mean, don’t get me wrong, but...I haven’t paid you yet.
At the end of six minutes, my date and I were done, which I think suited everyone just fine. My next brilliant plan for meeting people was to go to a public showing of Dr. Strangelove. I like the movie, and I figured if other people who liked it showed up, I already have something in common with them. If it’s a bust, then I see a good movie, return some books, and go home. I thought I had nothing to lose, but I was still disappointed when the only other person there was a very sweet Southern lady old enough to be my grandmother. We said hello, and after some small talk, I picked up a book I’d recently started.
“What are you reading?” she asked.
“It’s about a guy who’s a loser, and he decides he wants to not be a loser anymore.”
“Ah. Is it funny?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny.”
“I think that’s good. It’s easier to stick with a book when it’s funny,” she said. I asked what she was reading, and it turned out she was working on a book about the
“Is it funny?” I asked. She stared at me blankly until I started to worry that not only was my little joke not amusing, but I had maybe offended her.
When the movie started, it was still just the two of us (although there would be a grand total of 4 by the end). Realizing it was shot in black and white, she said, “Oh, this is an old movie!” So much for having something in common.
Finding my niche in a new town takes time, and sometimes I get impatient. Still, I’ll keep trying because it has been pointed out to me that people aren’t going to pop by my apartment to introduce themselves and watch Project Runway with me. And if someone did, well, that would be creepy and weird. If you were thinking about doing that, please don’t. I’m sure you’re very nice, but I will totally call the cops.
Monday, August 11, 2008 - 22:22:12
867-5309 (An apology)
To the person who has my old Florida cell phone number, I'd like to say: I'm sorry about the calls you've been getting.
First, my friend Jay called you and may or may not have yelled at you for not being me. Also, if he had any surreal adventures on public transportation before he figured out I changed my number, well, you probably got a text message or two.
And now, my friend Mike has called pretending to represent the political campaign of a fictional television character, which I thought was hilarious, but you...apparently did not.
Look, I sent an email and when I got my new number, and I'm not sure what happened. All I can offer you by way of consolation is this: when my friends John and Randy heard about all the random questions I have to answer as part of my job, and they decided to call and pretend to want medical advice about what to do if "it burns when I pee," they called me at work. So, you were spared that one, whereas I laughed about the whole thing for two days. I'm a little gross like that.
It occured to me that I could call you--I still remember the number--but I dismissed the idea because, really, aren't you sick of me by now?
Monday, August 04, 2008 - 23:36:49
The Winter of our Discontent, The Summer of My Despair
A few weeks ago, a guy at the pool asked what I was reading. “Oh” I glanced at the cover a little sheepishly, “It’s called Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets.” I think it was the phrase “killing streets” that convinced him to peddle his small talk elsewhere, and if you ever find yourself hoping to kill a conversation, I’d try working it into a sentence.
I’ve been reading and catching up with TV on
While I read Homicide by the pool, in my car I was listening to Freedomland, a novel about a woman who claims she was carjacked with her son still asleep on the backseat of her missing car, but…something about her story doesn’t add up. It was darker than my usual poolside fare to be sure, but I really noticed something was up when I tried to watch some more old movies as part of the on-going Celluloid Project for Kim. I was trying to watch the old Robin Hood with Errol Flynn, and I couldn’t focus. I switched to Laura and found that I sank into the world of film noir just fine. I followed up with The Wire and Wire in the Blood, and a few grisly British mysteries. Deciding to take a break from such gritty material, I headed downstairs to the children’s books one afternoon and picked up a few things that I could read quickly without too much thought or effort. I came back up with one of the Series of Unfortunate Events books (because what’s more cheerful than books about orphans who can’t catch a break) and a book about kids trying to prevent an evil scheme to brainwash and enslave the world. Oh, well done, Mick!
I started to worry about myself just a little bit. I usually defer to my moods when I can, so what I wear or eat or watch or read is often influenced by what I feel like at the time. So what did all this stuff tell me about my current mood? I ran through a quick depression check. Was I sleeping more than usual? Was I spending too much time alone? Withdrawing from those around me? Was I putting off a run because I simply didn’t feel like it? No. Ironically, when I’m in a funk I usually console myself with cheesy mysteries and crappy TV. We’re talking Lifetime movies of the week and romantic comedies on both the Family and the Hallmark channels. But I wasn’t doing any of that, so I’ve decided to feed my urges. I saw The Dark Knight. I’m re-reading Jarhead. I just finished a memoir about a homeless teen who may or may not be dying and proceeded to start a memoir that in the first 30 pages has touched on the death of a loved one, and the guy’s dog isn’t looking too healthy, either. In fact, The Soloist, a book about a writer who befriends a homeless schizophrenic musician is one of the more feel good books I read all summer, and it was not without its share of heartbreak and trouble, although I enjoyed it. Quite a lot, actually.
Ultimately, I think what these books and movies tell me is that I’m in the mood for stuff that is a little more complicated. And the stuff I’ve been checking out is worth it because it’s really, really good. Much of it is also darkly funny, which appeals to me, and while these things are hardly as cheerful as bowl full of puppies or whatever, I don’t find them depressing so much as interesting. And since nothing good has ever come from me being bored (in fact, staving off boredom has led to some of my more terrible ideas), I'll take interesting.
 |
  |
| © 2004 - 07 Arkansas Times. All Rights Reserved. |  |
